


Black Magic Tango: Sunny Side Up

by GentlemanCrow



Series: Black Magic Tango [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: An Obvious Mystery the Reader will Solve Before the Dumbass Protags Do, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Comedy, Everyone shares one braincell, F/F, Fantasy, LGBTQ, M/M, Magical Botany, Magical Shenanigans, Magical mercenaries, Urban Fantasy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlemanCrow/pseuds/GentlemanCrow
Summary: In famed Atlas City, renowned for its concentration of the weird and off-kilter, something is amiss.  Well something's always amiss, but something is extra, super amiss this time.  Someone has been viciously kidnapped in the dead of night and it is up to magical mercenaries Keiran and Kaiken of the infamous Magical Underground's Black Magic Tango to crack the case.  Well, that is after they've solved the mystery of a missing sun orb, a plundered plant nursery, a cult of inane sun worshippers, and a gaggle of really obnoxious vampires.  All the while avoiding the prying eyes of a Magical Government that has a hefty bounty on both their hides.  Life is hard when unregulated, unregistered magic is illegal and you have little regard for the rules.  But hey, gotta keep the lights on and food on the table somehow, even if sometimes you wind up in the path of things a little above your paygrade.
Series: Black Magic Tango [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775248
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> WELL HELLO! And welcome to my first ORIGINAL work! This is something I've been working on for literal YEARS, if not basically cultivating the ideas for it my entire life, so I am excited to be putting it out there at last in hopes that it will find its people! This is a tale of two idiots... Two idiots who just so happen to have magical gifts! Two idiots who like expensive sushi, but need to maybe pick up a job or two first. Two idiots who are just trying their best, but are about to find themselves wrapped up in a lot of things they really didn't bargain for. This is a tale about the world around you, a world you don't know, a world that has been actively hidden from you your entire life. I am about to peel back that veil for you, just for a moment... So sit back, grab a nice cup of tea, dump a generous helping of rum in it, and open up your inner eye to receive... Well something!! And please let me know what you think when you have completed this psychic transmission!

Bad movies always started just like this, Sascha thought. A deserted dark street, a sweet young person in distress just trying to get home with an armful of groceries, a disturbing lack of self-defense products, and a thick-necked gaggle of rather threatening young gentlemen just a few terrifying paces behind. All smirks and greased back hair and tough guy looks they practiced nude in the mirror to detract from other deficiencies, no doubt. All that was missing was the ominously flickering streetlight and some sort of unsettling loud sound to bring the tension to a downright cinematic crescendo. Sascha quickened their pace, and an errant raccoon hit its mark in a half-empty trash bin a few yards behind right on time. With a tiny squeak, they whipped around, but true to the film noir script their evening was turning out to be, no one was in sight among the floods of hellish orange light from the streetlamps. They flickered right on cue.

Better hurry it on up, Sascha thought. Futile as it would be.

Quicken the pace, and the goons behind them surely would as well. Footfalls beat a staccato cadence of dread against the cold concrete walls of the little alleyway. Somewhere, a dog barked. A distant siren wailed, heedless of the mental pleas radiating from the fleeing youth that quickly turned distinctly foul. Sascha’s breathing rasped in their chest and shadows morphed and reached out with twisted claws along dilapidated and sloppily graffitied fences. The sense of impending disaster choked in on the picturesque scene of doom, like the capricious hand of fate herself had penned their untimely demise all the while sipping instant coffee and cackling in her boxer shorts.

Turning a corner never worked in those terrible, awful movies, ever, but Sascha tried it anyway. Perhaps these particular goons were unversed in standard evil henchmen protocol. Sascha ducked down into the stalk of celery jutting out of the grocery bag and twisted down an even darker alleyway on their heels, but the shadows stretched like black and grinning jackals across the asphalt in front of them. They should have known better. Their path inexorably barred, Sascha skidded to a halt and clutched the bag, whimpering softly as the shadows became three men; men dressed in upsettingly nondescript clothing and moving far too alike a pack of hungry wolves for Sascha’s liking.

“Hey, hey cutie,” the first one cooed, “Where you goin’ in such a hurry, huh?”

Sascha winced.

“I-“

“Hold up, is this even the target?” the second chimed in.

“I went over the list literally ten times before we left but since your head is full of holes. Here!” the first sneered.

Sascha squeaked a little as the gruffest leader of the only slightly less gruff men slammed a crumpled sheet of paper against the offending idiot’s chest.

“Dark skin, blue hair, pink eyes…” he began as he unfolded it, glancing at Sascha, “Yeah. Short, a little timid? Well ok… Owns the little gardening store on Bradbury Avenue? I suppose so. Impossible to tell if they’re a boy or a girl? Definitely…”

“See, I told you! He-She- It, whatever, is the one the boss is looking for!”

“Actually I don’t really go by-“ Sascha interjected meekly.

“Alright alright! Yeesh! THEY is a little nicer you know, asshole. Right?” the third interrupted with a sickly sweet smile, “Now that we know we got it, what’cha doing going down there? Nothing this way but a bunch of run down, crappy old shops!”

“Heh, yeah that’s it! Not a place for such a pretty little thing to be all alone! Don’t you know what kind of ruffians like to hang out here?”

“And at this hour, too? Kinda dangerous, eh?”

“O-Oh I-I was… I-I was just… Heading home. G-Got some ice cream. M-Melts! You see!” Sascha stammered feebly.

The trio’s voices dripped with honey venom as they moved into a flawless and ravenous circle around their hapless victim.

“Awwww, but with not a soul to getcha there safe and sound? Tsk tsk! A crime against humanity,” goon number two crooned.

“And no one to share that yummy ice cream with, either?”

“Even worse!”

“Hey, wait guys! I got a real good idea. Why don’t you tag along with us?”

“Awww yeah!”

“We got a real cool place. We can bust out that ice cream, hook up some video games, and… Well we got something else real sweet we wanna show you. Don’t we?”

“Oh yeah! I totally forgot! You’ll LOVE it…”

“And like we said, our boss has had his eye on you, and he’s just been dying to meet you! I think you’ll like him, too… I think you’ll be real good friends.”

A ripple of hungry laughter wheeled round the circle of dark figures. Sascha just sighed and closed their eyes, trying to ignore the grating stock villain dialogue that was obnoxiously delaying the inevitable. They could hear the faint crackle of walkie-talkies and hushed voices, and they didn’t even have time to mourn the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the bag before a tiny vial was uncorked and a noxious, luminous violet mist blown smugly into their face. A crude and inelegant concoction Sascha mused, whiffing the ingredients, but effective enough. They swooned as their body succumbed, groceries scattering like a produce graveyard across the alley, and they found it rather a depressing notion that their final thought before passing out was not of a lover, not of family, not even a beloved pet, but rather which plants at the shop would be the first to expire in their absence, and at least old Mrs. Meriwether was sure to miss them. Eventually…


	2. We are Black Magic Tango!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! You have returned! Welcome to chapter one! In which we meet our two idiots, and we begin our tale. Many of the grandest tales come from the humblest beginnings. Perhaps this will be one! Perhaps not... All you can do is keep your eyes open as you wander the path. And as always feel free to leave a note along the way!

Life was always better with a soundtrack. No one knew this better than Keiran did, and that particular morning he knew his stroll through the bustling, dawn drenched streets of Atlas City simply had to be narrated by the smooth beat of Bradley Nowell telling him just exactly what he got on that fine day. He danced down the sidewalk to his own private soundtrack to life, his battered gym sneakers tapping out the beats and his mile-wide grin enticing quite a few passersby to join him in just a moment of stolen, carefree frivolity. There was something just a little off about him, but he was hardly the oddest thing the native residents had ever seen. No need to get their hackles up about friendly folks who were just a little bit off kilter. They’d even sort of built up a reputation on slightly off-kilter but friendly folks.

The beautiful stranger had only danced their blocks a few weeks or so, but uncanny fortune seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was a simple matter, really. Women getting catcalled while minding their own business? Any number of satisfying punishments were at his disposal; anything from a simple humiliating trip from a crack in the sidewalk that totally wasn’t there a second ago, they swore, to itching curses flung right into crotches and truth hexes that made them blather on about their sad and pathetic personalities instead. Dogs on leashes about to get into a bloody kerfuffle on the sidewalk? A shapeshifter he met on a ship crossing the Atlantic had taught him the language of animals, and the guise of stooping to pet the creature to mediate the disagreement was an effortless performance. Drooping flowers in a window box? A child could cast the elemental spell to revitalize them with no formal training whatsoever. 

The problem was, for a child the sentence for such a breach of UMBRAL Law would be a formal reprimand and a warning; perhaps a mandatory Magical Propriety Course if someone was feeling particularly curmudgeonly. For a fully-grown and assumedly wise adult such as himself, he wagered the fine would run about one thousand or so dollars these days. An annoyance, really, but when one made a habit of spellcasting on the sly, or worse, a business out of it, the rap sheet tended to grow quite lengthy. Keiran had no clue how long his actually was, nor did he really care, but counting out the sentences and fines proved to be an amusing game every time he returned back to the dingy little loft apartment he called home. 

And that morning, the infractions piled up with glee.

Some poor soul parked along the street had their tires slashed the night before. Random act of cruelty, or perhaps the effects of a vengeful ex, either way, no one deserved that kind of hassle. Probably, at least, and who was he to judge? So Keiran waved a furtive hand, healed the rubber with a mending enchantment spell and snapped his fingers to refill the air. Two spells that would earn a penalty equal to several commissions, which had been less than bountiful as of late. The donut shop ran out of apple fritters moments before he arrived, but a conjuring spell for baked goods was one of his self-designed specialties. Also he would be promptly turned into a smoldering pile of ash upon arriving home if he arrived without the apple fritters. 

Luckily the sweet college girl who always manned the morning shift was completely smitten with him. Taken utterly by his six-foot-something, square-jawed, goateed radiance, she never once noticed the hinky goings on that seemed to surround him. She was far too enamored of his golden brown skin and a blaze of white hair pure as moonlight. His violet eyes crinkled when he laughed, even when it seemed he was laughing only at himself, and there was always a song of the earwormiest, chart-toppingest kind booming from his chest. If she could bag a man like that, Becky down the hall wouldn’t be able to say boo to her ever again and her troll of a boyfriend would look like the wrong end of a geriatric moose. She sighed a lovelorn sigh as her Adonis entered the shop that morning right on time, bell tinkling, earbuds indistinctly pulsing as he tugged them out of his ears.

“Morning Kaydee! The usual, if you please!” he sang with a salute to his temple. 

Her cheeks immediately flushed, eyes fixed upon his face, and he took the moment of rapt inattention to furtively wave a hand over the always-empty apple fritter tray.

“Two apple fritters and two cake with coconut, with an extra old-fashioned for old Mr. Sokolov, right?” she gushed, breathless, “Funny, I always swear we’re out of apple fritters by the time you get here. And yet…”

She knew right well she had sold the last of the fresh apple fritters nearly half an hour prior, but her heart skipped a beat as she reached for them and found two; fresh and warm and glistening. She bagged his order, never looking away from the twinkling violet gaze stupid, vapid Becky assured her was just her imagination.

“Just lucky I guess,” Keiran said, winking as he took the bag of confectionaries, paid with a generous tip, and plunked his earbuds back in to continue his odyssey back home.

It was probably at least a 6-month jail sentence for that little number, but no one could be unhappy when there were fresh donuts about and that was all that mattered.

He had racked up several pricey bounties and warrants for his arrest in eight countries, last he checked. But that was nothing. Keiran had quite a lot in his life, and he was most certainly loving the life he had as the jubilant, carefree words of Sublime instructed him to as he wended his way home. Except he didn’t really need to find a reason why his money was all gone. He knew full well why the money was all gone. The entirety of his professional repertoire since the big move with his new business partner seemed to consist of brusque and not at all enigmatic or engaging fortune telling, which was all Kaiken’s doing anyway. Or the occasional stolen magical item, which was left to him. Neither of which were particularly stimulating or lucrative. He was beginning to wonder if dragging his entire life to the famed streets of Atlas City wasn’t complete folly after all.

In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. He’d had a lovely workout that morning, followed by a scrumptious breakfast, he had a roof over his head and he was starting life over in a new city. He really couldn’t complain about much at all. Work was bound to pick up soon, even if his business partner slash roommate was a tad more pessimistic on the subject. And by tad he meant glass not only half empty, but cracked, tacky, and with a fly in whatever liquid it was half emptied of.

Keiran bounced inside the grimy liquor store beneath the loft he shared with said sunny paragon of hope and joy and tossed a spare old-fashioned donut on the register for the scowling owner he knew only as Mr. Sokolov without thanks. Or what he thought was without thanks. He always muttered something in a language decidedly not English and even more decidedly hostile and stuffed his treat crudely in his face. Keiran never paid it any mind, everyone deserved a donut on a lovely morning. Even Kaiken, who would not thank him either. He pushed his way through the rickety door at the back of the shop with more unrequited pleasantries and made his way up the stairs to the loft above the derelict store.

It was more an old attic really, or for storage, with a few shabby partitions here and there. It had a bathroom, a couple of cramped bedrooms that had more than likely been closets in a previous life but with a panoramic view of the rat-infested alley below, and even a luxurious hot plate and half-sized refrigerator. And the landlord didn’t even charge extra for the company of the pigeons in the rafters. Nothing glamorous, but it was home. It awaited up a set of peeling stairs and the triple-bolted door upon which a meticulously hand-painted sign read: “Black Magic Tango: It takes two to tango! Dance lessons, choreography, and more! Plus a little something extra for extra special clients…” He smiled at it, as well as the tiny little apple with a crow perched on top he had added, a signal just for those extra special clients, and pushed his way inside.

Kaiken was sitting at the kitchen table, all scalding hot cup of tea and pinched-up face behind his horn-rimmed glasses burning holes into the newspaper with his eyes. He was still dressed in his red silk bathrobe, long India ink hair tied into a gleaming river of a ponytail that draped over his shoulder. His legs were poised and crossed at the ankle while perched eerily still until he heard the front door open and close. After which, he continued to not move and to read his not particularly interesting editorial about a woman who swore she and her family were being driven from their home by an angry family of ghosts vengeful they had decided to renovate.

“You forgot to take out the garbage this morning,” was all he said.

One glance at the refuse-free bin told Keiran otherwise. His nose wrinkled but a moment, replaced with a rakish grin.

“Ah, my friend. Clearly you are mistaken!” he chirped, twirling over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee from the fragrantly fresh pot Kaiken always made sure to put on for him when he made his tea, “For if you would wrest your eyes even for a moment, a tiny, fraction of a second, from whatever riveting tale I am certain you are devouring at the moment, you would see that the bag is quite empty and quite lavender scented! In fact! I do believe that is YOUR earl grey bag sitting right there at the bottom, as well. So before you go bandying about accusations and insults, at least make sure they hold water. Or in this case… Garbage.”

Kaiken’s hawkish black eyes narrowed irritably.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Those fiercely narrowed eyes slid slowly over to the hallway where Keiran’s bedroom door remained shut. A shut door only meant one thing when Keiran was concerned. He blinked several times, and finally it percolated down through his brain and into the chagrined look on his face what exactly it was his partner was insinuating.

“Oh…” he muttered, sinking into the seat across the table from Kaiken with his coffee and the bag of donuts, “Well you don’t have to be rude about it. I had a perfectly lovely time with him last night.”

“I am positively giddy with joy for you. My heart’s all a’ titter,” Kaiken snarled, turning the page of his newspaper loudly.

“Jealousy isn’t a good color on you, you know.”

“Ugh. Don’t even joke about that. I literally could not possibly care less than I do about your prolific love life. All I care about is we have a client consultation at eleven o’clock sharp this morning and excuse me if I’m a little leery of some half-naked bar bimbo waltzing out hungover in the middle of it looking for a little afternoon delight.”

Keiran perked up a little through a sip of coffee.

“Really? What about? Did it seem legit? Because if I have to sniff out another monkey paw or cursed ankh or magical toilet seat or whatever I swear I’m going to finally lose it.”

“Too late for that,” Kaiken scoffed teasingly, “But for what it’s worth, this time it actually seemed like something interesting.”

Keiran raised his brows, eagerly awaiting elaboration. None came forthwith.

“AND?” he prodded.

“And what?”

“AND what’s the job?”

“I dunno. They were a little sketchy with the details. Something about some religious nutjobs and a ball of gold? Or what was it she mentioned…? A sacred relic? Or something? A sun ball…” Kaiken mused, rolling a hand.

His partner slumped dramatically back in his seat and groaned from the pit of his gut.

“Goddess DAMN it all, so it IS another recovery job! I thought you said it was something interesting!” he wailed.

“What, the cult part doesn’t make it interesting enough for you?”

“NO!” Keiran barked, sitting back upright, “All this means is now I have to play moron for a few days and kiss Jonestown Looney Tunes ass until they cough up some mystical ball which probably isn’t even magical. Gods, I’m seriously about ready to just turn myself in MagiPol and hope for a reduced sentence if I whore myself out to the LAMErs at the Bureau.”

“Not my fault you have the attention span of a faerie with a Redbull habit. Money is money, what do you care?” Kaiken sniffed, finally folding up his newspaper.

“I just thought by moving to Atlas City, the single city in America with the highest concentration of Ley Lines and an infestation of magical mayhem, we’d be drowning in cash! Now I’m just a glorified, bootleg Indiana Jones and you’re Miss Cleo’s long lost Japanese cousin.”

Kaiken’s lower eyelid twitched.

“You can bitch all you want, but pissant whining doesn’t count as legal tender in this country, so we’re taking the job. Go clean up, take out the garbage, and be ready,” he snarled, getting up from the table and stuffing his apple fritter in his face as he swept ceremoniously off to dress for their client consultation.

Keiran sighed, enjoyed his coffee and donut in the peace his terror of a partner left behind, then bid farewell to the handsome young man with whom he had shared a clandestine tryst the night prior. Thankfully once awoken he was in a panic to be on time for his job at a clothing store he didn’t recognize the name of, and mistook at first for a band. While Keiran showered the sweat of his workout off and dressed in a breezy linen top with the buttons undone scandalously low and his customary violet scarf he began to wonder if he wasn’t getting a tad old for this game. But then again, he mused as he shaved and cleaned up his goatee, one was never too old for games. He was dabbing a bit of fragrance on his neck when he heard the jangle of the bell at the front door. Frowning, he picked up his watch and noted the time was barely past ten am, and he swore he remembered Kaiken saying their appointment was for eleven.

“Kaiken?” he called imploringly from the bathroom.

No answer came. But since he was fairly well ready anyway Keiran decided simply to answer it himself. He strode out into the living quarters, kicked a few shed articles of clothing from the night before under whatever furniture happened to be nearby, and opened the door with a radiant smile.

“Gooooood morning! Welcome to Black Magic Tango! How can I help you?”

On the other side of the door a plump old woman with bright coal-dark eyes recoiled in surprise.

“Oh I… I was told to come here… This is… Um…” she stammered, reaching into her pocketbook and rummaging around, “I’m sure I had the right address…”

Keiran smiled sympathetically. It wouldn’t be the first time someone came calling for their cover business, nor would it be the last. Being well enough versed in many forms of classical dance, it was no small thing to teach a few wayward Earthtouched how to do a tango or a quickstep or a foxtrot for their niece’s wedding or a high school reunion.

“Black Magic Tango dance studio. You have the right place! You must be here for- No no! Don’t tell me!” he proclaimed theatrically, thumbing his goatee with a rakish grin, “Granddaughter getting married? Grandson! And you thought you’d impress that fancy new spouse of his with a little Lambada on the dance floor?”

Muscles rippled, hips swayed in demonstration. The old woman squeaked and dropped her purse promptly on the floor.

“Excuse me…?”

Keiran used an elegant dance maneuver to retrieve it for her kindly as he continued without missing a beat.

“Heh, strike one for me! Must be… Bat Mitzvah then?”

“What? I… I’m not even Jewish… Listen, I just was told to-“

“Strike two! Okay, okay! Last guess!” Keiran interrupted, holding one hand out mystically and one to his temple like a magician or a mentalist.

“But if you’ll just let me tell y-“

“A new flame! That has to be it! Your poor husband, dead these past what? Ten years maybe? And finally! FINALLY! A suave, handsome man has swept you off your feet and taught you to love again! You thought you’d return the favor with a trip to Paris and a moonlight waltz atop the Eiffel Tower! Right?”

“Well I WISH, but no!”

“Alright then, lovely lady. I have lost the game. Please tell me how I can assist you today,” Keiran said, flourishing a hand and bowing.

The poor beleaguered woman drew herself up with a huff.

“Finally! This is Black Magic Tango, correct? I was told to come here and you could help me with a… Certain problem. It’s not my problem per se, I just sort of… Stumbled into it, you see. But I’m the only one who seems to care… Or even think it is a problem for that matter. And… I just… It’s all very strange and upsetting. You understand,” she informed him, voice firm at first but growing softer and more cautious as she grew more wary.

Her blatant skepticism was wrought all over her weathered face and her small, hunched stance. She fiddled with the strap of her handbag again, quite unsure why she was even here, talking to this strange and boisterous man who seemed to hear nary a word she said.

“I’m sorry, Mrs…?” he cut in.

“Meriwether, you can call me Mrs. Meriwether.”

“Excellent. Then I’m very sorry, Mrs. Meriwether, you must be mistaken. This is but a humble dance studio. We offer dance lessons in all forms, choreography for professional uses, and private courses for special occasions. I’m not sure what it is you heard about us, but I assure you it’s nothing more than salon gossip and paperback exaggeration,” he explained kindly.

Mrs. Meriwether was quite impressed with his ability to completely blow her off whilst sounding not at all condescending. But she would not be deterred.

“Funniest dance studio I ever saw,” she quipped, peering around the strapping young man and into the squalor behind him, “But I knew that. The young lady who gave me your address told me that it all claims to be a dance studio, but that you were REALLY a special agency for very special cases! And I’ve got one! She said I was to come to the door, knock, explain the situation to you and- Oh! My! I nearly forgot! If you hadn’t been in my face with your mystical mind reading mumbo jumbo I might have recalled… Here! I was supposed to give you this. She said it would shut you up.”

She rummaged around in her purse as she spoke, and finally produced a small, glittering silver coin embossed with the very same crow perched atop an apple painted upon the Black Magic Tango sign. The moment he saw it, the Keiran who had greeted her was no more. Flamboyant showman Keiran instantaneously morphed into wily businessman Keiran, and he smiled a wry smile just crooked enough to show a glinting gold molar on his left side.

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Looks like we can do business after all…” he purred, snatching the coin in his hand and making it vanish with a mystical gesture.

He pushed the door open and bowed, ushering an affronted Mrs. Meriwether inside. After he closed it, he made sure to lock all three bolts securely, and waved a hand over the runes carved deep inside the wood of the frame. They glowed bright violet, sealing off the loft from any prying ears and eyes, magical or otherwise.

“Please! Have a seat! Would you like some coffee? Tea?”

Mrs. Meriwether looked down, caught a glimpse of a silky violet thong peeking out from under the couch, and clutched her purse close to her chest.

“No thank you, I’d rather stand.”

Kaiken chose that moment to return to the living room, dressed all in black and still nibbling with anomalous delicacy on his apple fritter, which was barely a quarter consumed.

“Who’s the old broad?” he asked.

Keiran whirled around from retrieving a cup of tea Mrs. Meriwether had not asked for and glared.

“Our client, Dick Tracy… Or did our appointment slip your mind?” he said, gliding over and pressing a steaming mug into Mrs. Meriwether’s hand that read “Atlas City is for Lovers” over a bright red heart.

She shuddered.

“That’s at eleven,” Kaiken retorted bluntly.

Plopping himself into one of the two battered and very mismatched armchairs opposite the couch, Keiran sighed.

“People can’t be early?” he queried loftily.

“People can’t show up without an appointment,” came the sharp retort as Kaiken joined his partner in the opposite chair, still daintily gnawing away at his apple fritter, “Your magic donuts taste like shit by the way.”

Keiran bristled a little.

“They do NOT, but that’s beside the point! She’s obviously our client, and she had the right currency for our ‘extra special services’,” he added, magically producing the apple and crow coin and rippling it over his knuckles.

Kaiken didn’t seem impressed, his deadpan glare etched in stone on his face.

“But she doesn’t have an appointment…”

“She has the coin! So she at least has connections! Someone who trusted that she was someone with an issue only we could help her with! Why are you being so extraordinarily ornery today? Sleep on the stick up your ass the wrong way and shove it up further?”

“I’m giving a crap because we can’t just let anyone in here. You want MagiPol on our asses? You want to face a trial at UMBRAL headquarters?”

“But our system!”

“Our system is stupid! There, I said it. The coin thing is dumb. Stupid. Dumb. Moronic. And so on.”

His very genius and innovation called out, Keiran sucked in a theatrical, affronted gasp and launched into a furious tirade. Not to be outdone, Kaiken did his best to underscore the loud barrage with a constant, low grumble of dissention for every barb launched at him. Mrs. Meriwether listened for a time, certain they would both realize there was a poor old woman standing there abandoned. They didn’t.

“Um, pardon me, young man,” she began gently.

The verbal skirmish continued unabated.

“Um, I didn’t mean to… Intrude but. If you would just hear me out I-“

The argument had devolved to something several degrees removed from the coin system or whether or not to accept her as a client. Mrs. Meriwether thought she heard something about a clogged drain and unmentionable stains on a rug.

“Excuse me!” she piped up louder.

The two men had moved to pick up the most threatening objects within reach; wooden spoon versus whisk.

“WOULD YOU TWO CUT IT OUT!”

Even Mrs. Meriwether was surprised by the volume and command of her voice. Keiran and Kaiken froze in their battle stances, still brandishing their culinary artillery.

“Finally! All this secrecy and strangeness. A little something extra for extra special clients…” she recounted, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, “…You boys aren’t running an escort service or anything out of here, are you?”

The whisk clamored in defeat to the floor. The wooden spoon sailed through the air and struck Keiran square between the eyes.

“Damn it, I told you!” Kaiken growled at him as he swore and reeled in pain.

“That hurt, you asshole! And there is absolutely no possible way my system could be misconstrued for an escort service!” Keiran blustered.

Kaiken levied a scathing glare at his partner Mrs. Meriwether swore she could feel actual tangible heat radiating from. But instead of lobbing more vitriol his way, he simply sighed loudly, rummaged in his pocket for a cigarette out of an elegant case, and crammed it, unlit, between his lips as he slumped back into his mismatched armchair.

“Fine whatever, I’m done. Let’s hear the old bird out.”

He looked up expectantly at Keiran. Keiran sighed, walked over, and snapped his fingers beneath the awaiting cigarette. A brilliant flame leapt from his mere fingers alone to ignite it. Kaiken took a satisfied puff and Keiran flopped himself into the armchair across from him. Mrs. Meriwether’s jaw fell open.

“Finally…” Keiran groaned, smoothing back his white mane and composing himself, “Now please, Mrs. Meriwether. Have a seat and tell us what seems to be the trouble.”

His smile was so radiant, so handsomely beguiling, Mrs. Meriwhether finally sank down onto the musty couch. Or perhaps it was more out of relief to finally be heard out. Either way, she gathered herself and began her tale.

“Alright. No one believes me, like I said, but here it is. I have this wonderful little flower shop and nursery I visit downtown. Little Eden. Have you heard of it? It’s right smack dab in the middle of all that beautiful renovation they just did. Across the fountain square and right next door to the book store that has all the vintage and out of print books? I once got a copy of Pride and Prejudice there, near mint condition! Third printing! And I- Oh, pardon me. No, no of course you haven’t the foggiest what I’m talking about. It’s no matter. It’s lovely and it’s run by the sweetest little owner by the name of Sascha. Never could tell if they were a man or a woman, but that doesn’t really matter in this day and age now does it? I don’t care one wit who they are or who they see for drinks and a movie after they get off work. Sascha knows how to run a tight business and save a begonia with Botrytis Blight. They’re a right genius! My grandson thinks I’m this doddering old woman stuck in the past who can’t see past the spectacles on my own nose, but I read the news! I watch shows! Just because a person’s old doesn’t mean they’re going to automatically assume the worst of people who are diff-“

Keiran reached out and touched the woman’s shoulder, startling her out of her tirade.

“I think we get the picture,” he interjected with infinite patience and kindness, “Please go on. What happened?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, yes um well. A few days ago I went to the shop to get some fertilizers for my hedges and I found it closed at 2 o’clock PM on a Tuesday! Tuesday! Now I thought this was odd, and Sascha usually lets me in the back since I’m one of their best customers, so I went around to see if they were there. Nothing! I snooped around a little, I know I know, dreadful! But I was just so terribly worried, and I found something… Something just… Just awful! Their private office had been broken into! Pots broken everywhere! Papers scattered! All the windows broken out! Dirt and dead plants just tossed on the floor like garbage! Poor things…”

Kaiken pinched his temples under his glasses and leaned over his lap.

“Sounds like a normal break in to me,” he hissed, the tremor of fury barely hidden in his voice.

“Of course I thought so, too!” Mrs. Meriwether went on animatedly, “So I called the police and I waited there. And here’s the strange part… I went back around to the front to show them where to come, and by the time I lead them back everything was in its proper place again! Not a single pot smashed, all the files were back in the cabinet, all the plants were as alive and happy as the last time I had seen them! Like it had never happened at all.”

Keiran’s brows shot up, and he exchanged a glance of piqued interest with Kaiken who seemed more interested in getting Mrs. Meriwether out of their home and office than indulging an old woman’s senile flights of fancy.

“No offense but… You sure about that?”

“Kaiken!” Keiran yelped indignantly.

“Listen! I’m just covering all our bases here. Tell me straight up, lady. What exactly was it that you saw? You’re absolutely dead sure it was trashed and then not trashed a second later? You didn’t… Come back another day or… Wander off to a different office or-?”

“I assure you, young man, I saw what I saw! I still have all my grey matter. I’m old, but I haven’t lost my marbles yet! One minute it was like a hurricane hit, and the next it was pristine! It was almost like… Almost like…” Mrs. Meriwether began, only to spark a mischievous grin of opportunity on Keiran’s face and an exasperated groan out of Kaiken.

“Like magic…?” Keiran purred as he leaned forward.

“Oh Gods, here he goes…”

If Keiran heard his partner, he gave no indication as he held out his hands, fingers rippling preternaturally in front of their spellbound guest.

“I suppose so, yes… Wait, you’re not about to tell me-“

“What if I was? What if I told you that everything you ever read in storybooks was true? My dear, Mrs. Meriwether? Dragons, spellcasters, elves, vampires, werewolves, demons, faeries? What if I told you that magic pulses just beneath the surface of this world? That it hides behind a mirror of illusion and ignorance, but sometimes… Just sometimes… It bleeds through?”

As he spoke, in his upturned hands a brilliant violet light sprang from his fingertips, swirled into the shape of first a sinuous dragon, then a snarling wolf, and finally a delicate butterfly. It flitted and fluttered, leaving a glittering trail behind it in the air as it made a loop around Mrs. Meriwether’s head and vanished with a puff of sparkles.

“Extraordinary!”

“There are cracks in the veil. Places where it is thin enough for a curious eye to peer through. Through them, only rarely, someone like you catches a glimpse of our world. Sometimes it is full of wonder and beauty, other times dark, and full of terrors. Either way, when they do, that is where we come in. We are Black Magic Tango!” Keiran announced grandly, rising to his feet, “We battle the shadows that creep over the innocent. We seek that which has been lost to history, time, and humanity. We rescue that which is pure and good and seeks to do good in this world. We enforce the very notion that power is a great weight to be carried, and should only be used to-“

Kaiken’s delicate hand flicked in the air, and suddenly Keiran was silent, his jaw slammed shut as if his teeth had been riveted together. He performed a frantic dance accompanied by his shrill, muffled yelping as Kaiken cut in.

“Okay, okay, Morpheus. You can cut the act now, our rate is five-hundred a day, we do magical lost junk, lost magical people, psychic readings, custom spellcasting, jinxes, all the usual crap. We don’t do weird PI sneaky stuff, we don’t kill people, and we don’t do love stuff. Otherwise we’re flexible.”

Kaiken flicked his hand again and released his partner. The wind quite taken out of his sails, he pouted as he slumped back into his seat.

“Well, way to take my enigmatic mystique out of it all,” he puffed, rubbing at his perpetually scruffy jaw, “But that’s the gist of it. Also our rate is two-hundred a day, not five…”

“Magic is a business, pretty boy, and a back alley illegal one at that, get used to it.” Kaiken growled, tapping the ash from his cigarette into an empty coffee cup.

“Did you honest to the Goddess just call me ‘pretty boy’ just now? What, did you beat up all the 80’s awkward teenage John Hughes films in an alley and rifle through their pockets for pathetic insults? I mean come on. That one was bad even for you.”

“Sorry, sometimes I lack creativity when I can’t use profanity. Like now, in front of a CLIENT. Or maybe a client…”

Keiran sighed.

“Of course she’s a client! Didn’t you hear what she said? Sounds like it could be a Rearrangement Charm to me. Oh! Or even a Temporal Flux! A rare gift I know, but possible. Maybe an Illusory Veil? That’s more likely, especially if they were looking for something and needed to come back later and just needed to throw everyone off the trail.”

“And she could just be a crazy old lady who’s hallucinating or heard something on the street or saw a TV show or something. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know that, but-!”

Mrs. Meriwether’s brow grew tired of being furrowed in confusion. She finally raised her hand and her voice in protest.

“Excuse me, excuse me. I’m sorry but… I still have no idea what you two are on about. Will someone please just explain it so it all makes sense?”

Kaiken uttered a sound somewhere between a cat with a trodden upon tail and a fork caught in a garbage disposal.

“GODS damn it-! Ok listen lady, and listen good we are not repeating ourselves. There’s all kinds of magic in the world. Thing is, it’s illegal,” he began sharply. 

“It’s not ILLEGAL, my friend, it’s just regulated… Heavily…” Keiran interjected, dialing the tone back to something closer to civility, “We have a whole agency to create laws for magic and magical people, that’s UMBRAL! And without getting into too much of the grisly, boring detail basically they govern us magical folk, register us, and help us use our powers within regulations to keep you folks safe from harm and influence. There’s a whole underworld of magic you have no idea about because it was designed that way. And we here at Black Magic Tango operate outside the regulations to get things that need to get done, done. So you can consider us… Well, mercenaries of sorts. I guess. Magical hooligans for hire.”

Mrs. Meriwether was beginning to feel distinctly like the character in the movies that has to dimwittedly repeat the shocking revelation just so the audience is sure to understand. It killed her to do it, but she just had to hear it once more to truly believe what she was hearing.

“Magic is… Real. But hidden,” she repeated.

“Yes, just so!” Keiran chirped helpfully.

“Magic is real, but hidden from us normal folk? So basically that means… Everything we know about magic, all the books and legends and movies and things, is because someone at this UMBRAL place goofed up and let it slip?”

“In so many words, yes! Anything human imagination comes up with has to come from some grain of truth, don’t you think?”

The old woman sat. She sat and set her face into a stony carving as her brain slowly processed everything deluged into it. She sat and crossed her arms, twitched her fingers, hemmed and hawed, and finally puffed out her cheeks to speak again.

“So all the mysteries of the universe, such as, people who go missing with no explanation, or the Bermuda Triangle, or bigfoot, or haunted houses and Ouija boards? Vampires? Werewolves?”

“Indeed! Although I must say even the magical world still has no clue about the Bermuda Triangle,” Keiran chuckled.

“So if someone is really good at something, also? Say, supernaturally good at something. That might be someone who’s magical?”

Keiran brightened instantaneously.

“Precisely! Though one of the chief functions of UMBRAL and MagiPol – The uh, Magic Police, if you will- is in fact to regulate the uses of personal talents so no one has an unfair advantage over you Earthtouched nonmagical folk, but you know.”

“Ah HAH! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it all along! I just KNEW Esther Pendleton’s garden couldn’t win the homeowner’s association Blue Ribbon Bonanza EVERY year without being some kind of witch! Oh, just wait until I tell Sascha, we’ll beat her for sure this year! Oh… That is… If I ever see them again…”

Mrs. Meriwether’s face fell.

“You will… Look for them won’t you? Sascha? They’re… My friend.”

Keiran smiled sweetly.

“My dear lady. Of course we-“

“No.”

He whirled around on his partner, aghast. Kaiken casually finished his cigarette and stabbed it out in the bottom of the coffee mug,

“KAIKEN!”

“I said no. Not a case. Nope. Sorry. Can’t help you. Bye.”

Without another word the dark-haired man rose from his seat and shuffled to the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Just as silently, Keiran pointed a finger at the coffee pot. It sparked. The coffee maker crackled with static in return. Kaiken’s hand jolted back accompanied by a satisfying hiss of pain as he reached for it to make a fresh pot. The smile on Keiran’s lips was smugger than any cat with any canary in the history of cats who ate the canary as he turned back to Mrs. Meriwether.

“Contrary to what my esteemed partner in crime says. I believe you. And there is NO HARM. In INVESTIGATING. And getting BACK TO YOU. With what we FIND OR DON’T FIND!” he said, emphasizing just exactly he wanted his surly counterpart to hear.

Kaiken had not known Keiran very long, but he had known him well long enough to know that when he got it into his head to do something, his skull was far too thick to release that thought without significant browbeating. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Alright fine, Gods… Have her. Have her fill out a request form and I’ll think about it,” he grumbled as he finally got the coffee maker running without magical incident.

“Most excellent!”

Keiran’s hand flourished and a bundle of papers rolled into a tube materialized and unrolled before her, glowing softly violet. He ushered it toward their guest, who took it and filled it out with a magically produced purple quill pen atop the coffee table.

It was a simple enough thing to complete. Contact information, the nature of her magical mystery, any details that might be helpful in their investigation, etcetera etcetera. It might have felt a little too much like she was falling into the paper miasma of an illicit bureaucracy, if not for the genuinely concerned and warm way in which Keiran took care to help her fill it out in great depth and then filed it away in a derelict old grandfather clock enchanted to hide a lovingly curated filing cabinet full of their cases.

“It really is…” she marveled, watching Keiran push the drawer shut, leaving the clock ticking erratically away as if nothing else was strange about it, “Truly magical.”

“Sure. But it would be about a hundred times easier if we could afford a computer to file everything. Except someone keeps taking on charity cases,” Kaiken retorted from where he had cloistered himself in the kitchen nook, “Not naming any names.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Keiran tutted, sticking his tongue out at him over his shoulder and helping Mrs. Meriwether up from her seat.

She thanked them both profusely and went on her merry way; thrilled to have such nice young gentlemen working the case of her dear friend. Not to mention now she knew of a glimmering new world, a world of magic and intrigue, and nothing would ever be dull or routine again. She passed through their door into this new world, and promptly forgot all about it as she activated a warding Kaiken had carved into their door frame that patched over their session on her mind with a perfectly mundane memory of ducking inside Mr. Sokolov’s liquor store to pop into his horrifying restroom.

Keiran watched the wonder go out of her eyes and a vacant smile replace the nascent giddy one as she toddled down the stairs, out of her gourd with magic.

“Ah, I hate to do that to a naïve, innocent Earthtouched, but business is business, I guess. There are benefits to working with a Psychic,” he mused.

“Yeah, patching over grandma’s memory is a real noble calling, but whatever keeps us hidden, safe, and the cash rolling in. Now shut up and go get ready for our real client.”

Keiran heaved a long-suffering sigh, smiled, and opened the windows to let in the day. A light wind spell to air out the cigarette smoke, a conjured plate of glistening confectionaries, and he was ready for the client appointment promised. But he couldn’t help but glance out the window one last time at Mrs. Meriwether as she vanished out of sight, and wonder about the poor kidnapped florist and magical enigma that may or may not be magical at all.


	3. Chapter 2: The Sun Ball, Orb, Sphere, Whatever…

Some time later, at precisely eleven as prognosticated, there was a second knock on the door of Black Magic Tango. Behind it stood a hulking, brick wall of a woman in a white hoodie, eyes lined with black kohl. Her heavy brow fell in a disapproving scowl, her shadow filled the entire doorway with its oppressive presence, but she had a crow and apple coin already brandished in her hand. So they opened the door to their business and home, despite the distinct impression she could snap Kaiken in half and then beat Keiran to death with the two pieces. The duo ushered her in, seated her with the same hospitality as Mrs. Meriwether, albeit tinged with a slight tenseness, and set about the business of the job that had been the plan all along.

“So tell us, um, Ms…?” Keiran began, looking to his partner who had set up the meeting in the first place.

Kaiken took his sweet time lighting another cigarette, but once it was smoking and he was comfortable, he rummaged in his pocket for the neatly folded request form.

“Ms…” he read, wrinkling his nose at the name, “DeNyal? Lettis DeNyal?”

His eyes flicked up over the crimson frames of his glasses.

“That can’t possibly be your real-”

A high-pitched squeal interrupted him.

“Wait wait!” Keiran sang, “Say it again!”

A single eyebrow crept up Kaiken’s otherwise blank face.

“Lettis DeNyal?”

“Ah! It sounds so cute when you say it! Like a cat! Nyah! Do it again!” his partner swooned on, laughing merrily.

“No.”

Ms. Lettis DeNyal, Nyah like a cat, grimaced with the sudden strange and oppressive aura washing over her.

“Aw come on! It’s adorable! Nyah!” Keiran echoed with no deficit of delight, holding up a hand like a paw.

“Stop that.”

“Just one more time! Please? Pretty please?”

“Do you want me to seal your mouth shut again? Because believe me I would love nothing more than to-”

“Actually it’s De-Nai-All. Like, denial. It’s not that hard,” the lady in question cut in.

Both men halted. Truth be told, they had momentarily forgotten she was even there, rigid stone statue in the corner of some eccentric aunt’s house that she was. They also realized just what it was they were supposed to be doing, and refocused with some modicum of professionalism, straightening up and clearing their throats.

“Yes, well. Ok then, Ms… DeNyal. As I was saying… That can’t possibly be your real name…”

The client drew herself up, cutting her eyes at the duo across from her.

“Of course not. As if I would give my real name when working with… With. Well. You know. No offense,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at the warded door.

“None taken,” Keiran assured her with a rakish grin, “Please, go on Ms. DeNyal. My esteemed partner here mentioned something about. An artifact? Start from the beginning and give us as much detail as you can.”

“That’s Lady DeNyal, if you please, and yes,” Lady DeNyal if-you-please affirmed in an indelicate growl, “I contacted you because something very precious indeed has been stolen from us.”

“Us meaning…?” Kaiken probed.

“I have come here on behalf my brethren, the brothers and sisters of the Children of Aten,” Lady DeNyal said with pointed dramatic pause.

Keiran and Kaiken stared, their blank faces inviting her to continue.

“You know? The Children of Aten? Devotees of the Sun? Wings of Horus? Knowledge Keepers to Almighty Ra? The Dawn and Dusk of Humanity?” she elaborated.

Keiran and Kaiken continued to stare.

“Seriously? Alright, one more time, we’re an organization dedicated to the worship of the Old Gods. You know? Horus? Ra? The Sun Disk Aten? Understand?”

“Ohhhh,” the duo breathed in unison.

“I get it now! I didn’t think there were any organizations like that left that UMBRAL hadn’t put the official kibosh on, but hey, that’s Atlas City for you, I suppose!” Keiran snickered, “Please go on!”

“Precisely. Which is why we had to resort to... To… Mercenaries. Ergo, you. You see not only do we worship our Lords of the Sun and Sky, we hold among us a prize among prizes, a priceless artifact; the Sun Orb. It was a gift thousands of years ago from Horus himself to his favorite Priestess before The Great Rift. It is said to contain fire from the sun itself, and scorches those who touch it and are not worthy of its might. It has bolstered us, given us hope and guidance for millennia, and now… Now it has been stolen from us.”

Keiran and Kaiken glanced at each other, a brief flicker of intrigue on both their faces.

“Wait, an actual God relic? Kaiken, my friend, you failed to mention that juicy little tidbit, now I really am interested…” Keiran purred, “Though I will reserve judgment until we get a few more details.”

“Yeah, tell us more about The Sun Ball, Orb, Sphere, Whatever…”

“Okay. Um. It’s round. It’s gold? Being in its presence gives you an ineffable sense of becoming one with the solar winds, swept through the galaxies and out into the fabric of space and time where all of existence happens in one singularity that is both timeless and infinite?”

“Um… We were thinking more along the lines of… When was it stolen? If you saw anything or anyone suspicious? Uh… Any clues you might have?” Keiran said, forcing a patient smile.

Lady DeNyal pounded a fist into her open palm with a startlingly loud crack.

“AH YES!” she growled, “The perpetrator! We know exactly who it is! There is another organization here in Atlas City dedicated to-“

She stopped, frowning.

“Actually, I’m not completely sure. No one is. They call themselves “Iter Luminis” which means “Path of Light” or some such nonsense. All their zealots love to spew speeches about how all magic users must worship the leylines in the Earth and our hearts and veins because they are the same, “path” or some other cultist drivel. And that’s exactly what they are! Nothing more than a cult of fanatics and subversives who get a rise out of practicing illegal magic right under UMBRAL’s nose and having the gall to call it an organization. I’ve heard reports of them stealing other magical objects to add to their hoard and they’ve been sniffing around our temple for a while now. I know. I’ve seen them myself. Like rats around a dumpster!”

Lady DeNyal loved to punctuate each of her slights with either shadowboxing or pummeling the poor innocent couch to accentuate her outrage. She ended by grinding her powerful fist into her equally powerful palm vehemently. Kaiken watched her muscles twitch and ripple with a kind of detached fascination as he listened. Keiran, thankfully, had thought to materialize his trusty old, battered notebook for case notes and was dutifully scratching down the details with a violet quill pen that glowed faintly; nodding all the while.

“Mmhmm, I see. Anything else?”

“Yes, we have a few witnesses you could talk to as well. Some of the guards assigned to keep watch over our sacred relics, they didn’t see much but hopefully you can get something out of them?”

“Of course! My esteemed partner here might be able read their memories. I have a vast repertoire of magic at my disposal! Illusions, astral afterimaging. Shapeshifting too, if you request that kind of surveillance, but I can only do a raven or an arctic fox and I usually charge a bit extra for it. Shapeshifting’s tricky and I always feel a little… Funky? Shall we say? After I’m an animal for too long. I could perhaps-“

“Wait!” Lady DeNyal cut in with an alarmingly guttural and arresting tone, “You can do ALL of those kinds of magic? How’s that possible? Wait a second, you’re not-”

Keiran’s lips curled into the sly, golden molar-baring grin of a professional conman, thief, and all around ne’er-do-well.

“But of course I am. And I work with a Psychic. How else do you think we’ve been in business as long as we have and not gotten caught?”

Their guest did little to conceal her scoff of thinly-veiled, automatic mistrust.

“Tch, a Magus huh? I thought your kind had all died out a century ago.”

“No indeed, Madam, we are exactly as tenacious and insidious as all the old legends make us out to be. And very much alive and kicking, thank you!”

“No matter, I’m not one to judge as long as you can get our sacred Sun Orb returned safely to us.”

“Missing magical shit is kind of our bread and butter. We’ll be fine,” Kaiken added flatly, “We’ll follow you out and meet you out at your… Compound or tent or alley or wherever it is you rub your sun ball.”

“Orb,” Keiran corrected.

“Whatever…”

“Anyway! Our going rate is two hundred a day, but we can negotiate the finer details later!”

“The person who gave me your contact said you were the best, and I trust him. And I have been given permission by our high priestess to pay whatever it takes to get it back. Money is no object.”

What transpired next would be nigh unto impossible to describe from a neutral viewpoint. Keiran would insist that he had been sucker punched so many times he simply had developed a sixth sense for it. Kaiken would say that his partner had been begging to be punished and should have gotten far worse. Lady DeNyal could only say that one moment, she was talking business with two well-respected, up and coming renegades of the magical underground, and the next the armchair had been psychically yanked from underneath Keiran and flung, pell-mell, into the air. He didn’t even need to be psychic to know it was coming, and divested himself from it beforehand to land, with feline agility, on his knees with the battered old furniture braced aloft on his shoulders like a beleaguered Atlas before it smashed his head like so many ill-fated living room sets before it. Lady DeNyal simply watched without even punching a thing, and was left gaping at a hideous tableau of hot temper and avarice.

“IDIOT! This is why I say five hundred first!” Kaiken bellowed, “Then you barter!”

“You can’t barter if they balk and walk away at your first offer! And people are always so grateful the tips at the end make up for it!” Keiran snapped in reply, effortlessly shoving the chair back into its place where gravity dictated it belonged and plopping back in it as if nothing at all had happened.

Kaiken followed suit, however with his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes gleaming behind his spectacles.

“So five hundred a day?” he asked, missing nary a beat.

“Uh… I… I suppose?”

“Great, then we have a deal. Like I said before, give us a bit and we’ll meet you at wherever you say to meet.”

Still unsure she had actually seen what she had seen, Lady DeNyal took Keiran’s proffered notebook and quill from him and scrawled the address of the Temple of Aten.

“Thank you. I can’t impress upon you enough how much the Sun Orb means to us. It is our strength and guidance. Our link to our past and our beloved God Horus. We are nothing without it.”

“We understand, and I swear to you, my dearest Lady DeNyal, we will- Wait, I just got that! DeNyal, not like denial but de Nile! It’s not just a river in Egypt. Because Horus, and Aten! Egyptian Gods! Hah!” Keiran said, brimming with amusement and waving his quill out of existence into magical mist.

Lady DeNyal smirked.

“Took you that long to figure it out? Maybe we shouldn’t be entrusting you with our sacred relic.”

Keiran laughed.

“Or perhaps only paying us two-hundred a day.”

“Wait then what’s the Lettis part?” Kaiken queried.

Lady DeNyal’s smirk grew oddly mischievous for such a stoic and imposing woman, something ancient and mystical shining in her eyes.

“That part you will have to have to look up yourselves. If you are so inclined.”

Keiran and Kaiken glanced at each other and shrugged.

“I suppose we shall! Well then, until we meet again. I swear to you, we will do our utmost to recover your sacred relic!” Keiran proclaimed, thrusting a hand out.

“I trust that you will. Until we meet again. May the light of Aten illuminate your path and your soul.”

Lady DeNyal snatched his hand. Giving it an altogether too-firm shake, she jostled him about before tugging up the hood of her hoodie and vanishing out the enchanted door. They watched her go in silence a moment, and Keiran shattered it with an energetic clap of his hands.

“Alright! New job! Let’s GO!”

And with that he set to bustling about to prepare for an investigation. Utility belt with all his various satchels, pouches, and vials for enchantments and charms. Feet out of his Kaiken-issued house slippers and into his trusty boots. Runed, magic amplifying leather cuffs strapped around his wrists. All manner of trinkets, wards, and even a few blades hidden in various places on his body, and with one final sweep of his hair and goatee, he was at the door and ready. Kaiken watched the entire time, silent, still. Only once Keiran was giving him his signature puppy with a leash in his mouth ready for his walk look did he spring into action.

“Fine, one sec.”

He glided on silent feet into the kitchen and stopped, dead center. At his psychic behest, a cabinet door opened of its own accord. A fresh new bottle of single malt Glenlivet drifted out, twisted open, and floated over to Kaiken who was already waiting with his silver flask opened and ready. He filled it, replaced it in the inside breast pocket of his black denim jacket, and tucked the bottle back inside its home.

“Alright I’m good.”

At the door, Keiran laughed warmly.

“Wow, seriously?”

“What? I work with you don’t I? I don’t think I need any more of an excuse.”

“Touché. But that just means since I have to work with you, I think sharing is only fair!”

“Get your own.”

“If we can solve this case, I’d be delighted. I’ll even spring for some older than you! How’s that? Now come on!”

Keiran laughed again and bounced out the door, thundering down the steps with a whistle in his throat. Kaiken got out his keys to lock the door and ward it behind them, but a sudden cool breath of air on the back of his neck and a prickling of hair and spirit stalled him.

“He’s right you know. About everything. As usual!” a smug, female voice chimed in his ear.

Kaiken ground his teeth with an aggravated grunt.

“And you only show up to ‘help’ when you want to make an ass out of me,” he replied, “So I’m not inclined to- Wait, about the whiskey or the case?”

He cut his eyes back into the apartment where a brief glimmer of ethereal eyes and long hair vanished as soon as it appeared.

“You tell me…” the voice crooned, echoing against itself.

“Okay, then I’ll tell you to piss off, I’m in no mood for your riddles today. Thank you, don’t come again.”

A peal of pleased laughter echoed with a flash of a translucent figure through the room.

“Reserving my preemptive I told you so then. I get that one and any subsequent ones you rack up on this misadventure. It’s not going to be as easy as you think. And that’s all the help you’re getting from me!”

It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving the cold crispness and the vague smell of something sweet and cloying, like dense ozone, behind. Kaiken shivered.

“Asshole…” he muttered.

Only then did he realize Keiran was distantly haranguing him.

“Kaiken! Hey! What’s the hold up! Kaiken! I get a last minute pee break but come on! Hey! Heeeey! Hey let’s go! Are you talking to your imaginary friends again? Tell Lena I say hi! Kaiken? Kaaaaikeeeen!”

Just as Keiran was beginning to sing his name to the Jeopardy theme, Kaiken slammed the door with a snarl of ‘Shut it, I’m coming!’ and descended the stairs to join his partner. Together they struck out onto the street to canvas the neighborhood of their latest job, but not before sharing a mutual swig out of the newly filled flask at Kaiken’s disposal; no lip contact allowed of course.

Behind them, a charmingly hand-painted sign that read ‘Closed! Please call again!’ with a smiling apple materialized and clattered neatly into place above Black Magic Tango.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to poor old Mrs. Meriwether, and what would have been to Keiran’s victory and Kaiken’s disinterest had either of them known, Sascha stirred from their deep, magical drug-induced sleep.

It had not been a particularly nice sleep, sorry to say, filled with thrashing, snatches and flashes of nonsense dreams, and the dull ache that only those who are of a certain age and have been unfortunate enough to pass out on a cold hard floor know all too well. When they opened their eyes, nothing but darkness flooded their vision. A moment to adjust and they focused on a sliver of light that filtered in through the ancient paper plastered over the window, tinged with the warm gold of day. It ever so slowly illuminated a cluttered, disaster of a room filled with benches and shelves all lined with a menagerie of specimens. Twisted bodies peered from dead eyes through dust and glass from a forest of bottles, dried herbs, and plants, many of which Sascha knew were not remotely of this world. Strings of beads and colorful scarves lined the ceiling, from which an array of softly glowing bottles and phials were strung with more herbs in the process of drying, piquing Sascha’s interest as much as their dread.

They attempted to get up, but found their limbs quite logically bound, and to finish off the by the book series of insults and injuries they had suffered they only had but a moment for a pathetic struggle before footsteps approached the shadowed doorway. Sascha froze. The knob turned comically slowly, heralding the equally slow opening of the door with its chorus of rusty squeaks and groans. Framed in the blinding light, a tall, willowy shadow appeared in the doorway, and Sascha swore for a moment all they could see was a swath of a deadly white grin cut across the darkness.

“Ah! You’re finally awake. Good, I was starting to think we might have gone a little overboard. Hired thugs being so reliably unreliable and all…” it crooned in a deep voice richly steeped in Creole.

Sascha coiled into a ball on the ground.

“Aw, don’t you fret none, cher. We ain’t here to hurt you,” the figure continued, stepping into the room where the full spectrum of halos from his bottles more clearly illuminated his face.

He was dark-skinned, but with eyes so pale a shade of brown they gleamed almost yellow in the kaleidoscope wash of color. His hair was immaculately coifed into dreadlocks and he was dressed in a crisp suit that was impossible to tell if it was actually expensive or just a well-crafted knockoff. He unbuttoned the double breast of his jacket and crouched down a few feet from his captive, elbows draped over his sharp knees.

“Sascha, right? Of Little Eden Nursery?” he asked.

Sascha nodded tersely.

“Beautiful, we been searchin’ you out a long time, now.”

“Why? What do you want from me?” Sascha asked, their voice much smaller than they would have liked with a throat so parched from time and disuse.

The shadowy man smiled the same knife slash grin he had upon first entering.

“Simple, mon petit chou. Ever heard of a little ol’ thing called Alchemy?”


	4. Chapter 3: Everyone’s an Expert in Magical Botany on the Internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? This thing's still on? So sorry about that!! I suppose you're wondering what our heroes are up to now, well of course you couldn't see that! They're on a covert mission after all! And UMBRAL would... Oh. I suppose that was the point, wasn't it? To escape their prying little eyes? Then I suppose we should all take a look, shall we?

Chapter 3: Everyone’s an Expert in Magical Botany on the Internet

Keiran and Kaiken needed zero magic to find the Temple of Aten; only the GPS on Keiran’s phone –Kaiken being miserly with his data-, and a handy Atlas City Transit map. In only a few cramped, aromatic public transit hours, they were both marching side by side into a derelict strip mall on the outskirts of the financial district toward a nondescript store front flanked by a cash advance joint and a Chinese takeout restaurant. One of those places people pass by and can’t help but think, what the hell even is that place, and who actually patronizes it? How does it stay open? Gotta be a front for something hinky… And then never notice again. A sign with a lopsided sun done in gold paint bearing the moniker ‘Sunrise Daycare’ in the window over the white drapes obscuring the interior completely was the only sign the establishment was a thing at all. That, and the helpful chirp of the guidance voice from Keiran’s phone.

“No, we have not reached our destination,” Kaiken growled at it, “This cannot be the place.”

“Well they can’t exactly have big neon signs that say ‘Illegal gathering of Old Gods Worshippers here’,” Keiran pointed out.

“I know, dumbass. I’m just saying.”

“Our cover business is just as ridiculous. I’m just saying. But if they’re anything like most illegal magic operations…”

Kaiken rolled his eyes while Keiran touched the door with a purple illuminated finger. In response to his powers, golden letters roared to life in magical glory; ‘The Temple of Aten’ emblazoned across the glass storefront while a very real looking sun rose behind it.

“That font is a crime,” Kaiken blurted in sheer revulsion as it faded as soon as it appeared.

“Please, my friend, refrain from bringing up their unfortunate graphic design choices and focus on the job at hand. Let’s go.”

“No promises.”

The duo pushed the door open, which gave way to their touch when the runes of the ward sensed magic, and entered the sacred grounds of the Children of Aten.

The front of the store had been cloistered off in drywall erected with the earnestness of amateurs and painted with hieroglyphs to hide the TJ Maxx logo that still loomed behind the bright colors like a ghost of retail past. A receptionist sat at a desk veiled with translucent red scarves, dressed in the same white hoodie Lady DeNyal had been. She jumped up to greet them and ushered them in her whirlwind of fervor and excitement into the temple beyond. The ‘temple’ was no more than the repurposed retail space painted much the same as the ‘vestibule’ at the front. However the pillars that once boasted titles such as ‘Menswear’, ‘Home Goods’, and, ‘Kitchen and Bath’ at least now stood with a little more dignity with the figures of Gods and Goddesses encircling them.

They followed in the footsteps of Horus, Set, Bastet, and Anubis as they performed their pictogram exploits across the walls, leading them deeper inside where Lady DeNyal was waiting to greet them with an entourage of believers.

“My friends!” she proclaimed, pounding a fist into a palm into the air and bowing, “Ahlan wa sahlan! Welcome!”

The Children of Aten gathered around her repeated the gesture and the greeting.

“Oh! Ahlan biki! Thank you!” Keiran replied, not missing a beat.

Kaiken cut his eyes at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a tail, or daisies out of his ears.

“What? What’s that look for? I speak Arabic pretty well! You’ve heard me do it multiple times!” Keiran continued, pouting just a bit for emphasis.

Kaiken’s eyes registered his brain’s attempt to search its indexes for the occasions, but as usual came up blank in the end.

“Seriously? Should I ask what you had for breakfast this morning? Or would that overheat the poor little hamster on the wheel that runs your brain?”

“Ahah- Well! ANYWAY! No need for thanks, it is we who owe you thanks for taking our case and coming all this way,” Lady DeNyal cut in, bowing again and making way for their guests who remembered quite suddenly that they were on a job and should probably focus if they hoped to get paid, “We have preserved the defiled altar just as it was found, and I have summoned the guards who were posted the night it was stolen for you to speak with. I hope you can find something sufficient for beginning your investigation.”

“We shall give the scene the royal investigative treatment, my lady, fret not!”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Kaiken grumbled, as Lady DeNyal lead them down the ceremonial pathway through the center of the store-now-sort-of-sacred-temple.

They made their way to the very back, where two falcons atop pillars reached golden wings toward one another over a velvet draped entrance; the C and the S of the old “Customer Services” sign just peeking out from behind their backs. The two aforementioned guards stood sheepishly before each of the pillars at their usual post and bowed reverently as they lifted the curtain for the entourage to pass. Once they were securely inside, with a deft snap, click, and a punch of a button on a wall panel, their official welcome began.

The old PA system crackled to life with a booming, if low fidelity, recording of grand fanfare, layered with a rumbling baritone voice.

“IN THE BEGINNING,” it proclaimed as spotlights flashed on the entrants to the inner sanctum, “THERE WAS ONLY DARKNESS. THEN MIGHTY ATEN DECREED CREATION WAS TO BEGIN!”

As the recording continued, more lights along the walls flashed on, revealing crude but painfully earnest hieroglyphic murals of the tale.

“HE BROUGHT FORTH THE LAND AND THE AIR, WHICH BEGAT THE SUN GOD RA, WHO IN TURN, GAVE THE WORLD GEB AND NUT. THE EARTH AND SKY BROUGHT FORTH THE PERFECT BEING, OSIRIS, WHO, WITH HIS RAINBOW-WINGED WIFE ISIS GAVE THE WORLD HIS GLORY, HE WHO FLIES HIGH IN THE SKY, THE NOBLE HORUS.”

And with the mention of Horus, the music swelled and the laser lights and strobes began, sweeping back and forth over the ceremonial chamber like a rock concert about to begin. Keiran gasped in delight while Kaiken closed his eyes to ward off the migraine that was pulsing cheerily in the backs of his eyeballs.

“HORUS, GOD OF KINGS, THE ALL-SEEING EYE, PROTECTOR AND RULER. OUR GOD OF GODS! HE WOULD HAVE RULED HUMANKIND WITH GRACE AND HUMILITY FOR A MILLENNIA. BUT ALAS! IT WAS NOT TO BE. THE GODS WERE A BLESSING WE WERE NOT MEANT TO KEEP. BUT BEFORE THE GREAT SCHISM, HE LEFT HIS HIGH PRIESTESS ONE FINAL PARTING GIFT. TO REMEMBER THE GLORY OF THE ANCIENT EMPIRE, TO REMEMBER HIS LOVE, TO REMEMBER HIS LIGHT, TO REMEMBER…. THE SUN! LOOK, AND BE AMAZED MORTALS. STAND IN THE PRESENCE OF THE ONE, THE ONLY, SUN ORB!”

And with that, the lights blazed onto one central altar where the sun orb should have been, but where now only an empty divot atop the peak remained. It would have made for a rather anticlimactic ending to the melodrama, save for Keiran’s energetic applause. Kaiken shot him a questioning glower out of the corner of his eyes, to which he shrugged. The two guards watching from their post shrugged as well, one muttering to the other.

“Dude…”

“I dunno! It felt weird not to!”

“AHEM!” Lady DeNyal announced, “This is our inner sanctum where the crime was committed. Please do whatever it is you need to do. Give our guests some light, if you will.”

The lights in the chamber flicked on one by one and lit the relic chamber and the altar in fluorescent light for the investigation to begin. The altar stood at the head of the chamber, bold and grand in its apparent ancientness, flanked with more golden falcons and a backdrop of a rising sun with filigreed rays flaring boldly outward that only highlighted the loneliness of the missing relic. It was perhaps the thing that looked most authentically in the spirit of the ancient God it was meant to honor, and perhaps the only true antique. Though not even that could spare the whole outfit from the unglamorous pall of a movie set in the cold light of retail past.

“I’ll have a chit chat with the guards, you look around and see if you see or sense anything!” Keiran instructed, and while Kaiken silently assumed the role of forensics and he assumed his usual role of client liaison.

Kaiken prided himself in his meticulous investigation of the scene, though there was not much to find. There were some scuffmarks on the floor where there had been a minor struggle, or more likely, someone dropping like a sack of potatoes. Judging by the chagrined expressions on the faces of the two men Keiran was interviewing, this was more than likely the case. The way they rubbed their bruised heads, and therefore egos, as they talked was more than enough proof. They knew nothing other than one moment they had been going about their usual business, and the next launched headlong into dreams which, upon beginning to divulge, they could only blush and stutter over the lurid details. Keiran resisted the urge to press them further, and finished his questions while Kaiken finished snooping around the altar.

Kaiken was also allowing his partner time to do his thing and only looking busy by circling the altar like a TV detective with a furrowed brow and hands shoved contemplatively in his pockets. However on the last pass, something actually did catch his eye. Beneath the hem of the ornate cloth embroidered in hieroglyphs draped over it, something offensively magenta was peeking out on the floor near the back. He stooped to gather it and found it to be a mangled, but still fragrant, flower, the perfume of which punched him square in the consciousness upon his nose daring to draw even remotely close to it. Keiran saw him swoon and craned his head toward him around the two guards.

“You okay?”

“Found a thing,” Kaiken announced, holding it at arm’s length.

Upon seeing the brilliant foliage, Keiran gasped in delight.

“Oh, how beautiful!” he cried, darting over.

He reached out for it, but could not resist tapping Kaiken’s hand closer to his face again before he snatched it. The scent assaulted his senses once more, sending him reeling and swaying and swearing a blue streak under his breath.

“Beautiful yes, but despite the alluring appeal one should never get too close to this little friend…” Keiran chimed, holding the blossom up into the light.

“If I’m not mistaken, the Breath of Morpheus is what this is commonly called, though some refer to it as a Baku Paw. A deliciously soporific little gem used in various spells and potions to induce sleep.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Kaiken snarled, rubbing the sense back into his eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Let’s just say sleep and I did not exactly get along when I was but a wee thing, and my mother is a practiced herbalist and storyteller…”

“That’s messed up.”

“I certainly seem to be no worse for the wear. It’s perfectly harmless when used in the proper dosage, and it even has the added benefit of ensuring the sleeper has no nightmares!” Keiran chirped, “So whosoever snuck in here to steal the Sun Orb clearly has a working knowledge of botany, and magical botany at that and- OH MY STARS!”

Keiran seized Kaiken’s shoulders and shook him excitedly, wafting yet another plume of narcotic pollen toward his nostrils.

“Holy shit, would you stop waving that in my face? I’m gonna pass out!” he choked.

“No but Kaiken! Kaiken, do you know what this means? Don’t you see the connection here?” Keiran raved, violet eyes gleaming.

“I see a connection of my fist and that dumbass grin of yours if you don’t knock it off,” he replied.

Finally, he wrenched himself away with a peal of giddy laughter.

“Sascha!” he exclaimed as if that answered everything.

Kaiken sniffed back the accumulating snot that had come to battle the foreign pollen invaders and stared at him.

“They run a nursery? Little Eden? Mystical probably magical disappearance? And we just so happen to find a rare magical flower at the scene of this crime? Come on! How do you not see it! It can’t possibly be a coincidence! Sascha’s case is a case after all!”

Kaiken rubbed at his nose shamelessly and shrugged.

“Magic flower means nothing.”

Keiran moaned with such forceful exasperation he quite literally sank to his knees.

“You have got to be kidding me! Are you really so jaded that you can’t at least for one hot second entertain the notion that things in this universe are connected, that serendipity is alive and well?”

“Black Market’s alive and well. You know that as much as I do. Anyone could have gotten this flower to use for this heist. Maybe the kid grew it, maybe not, doesn’t actually prove a connection to the kidnapping. Which still isn’t magical, by the way,” his partner retorted.

“But-!”

“No, stop that,” Kaiken commanded, already sensing a kicked puppy expression forming on his partner’s face, “We’re doing the job we’re actually getting money for first.”

He hesitated a moment, but added with a sigh.

“But if we have time after you can investigate whatever you want on your own time.”

“Fine, I suppose you have a point…”

“About time you got with it. Did you get anything out of the guards?”

Keiran, who had managed to find the resolve to rise to his feet again at some point, stroked his goatee pensively. Kaiken snatched the flower out of his hand and produced a Ziploc bag from seemingly nowhere. Probably from the same 4th dimensional place where he also kept his neatly-folded-into-triangles plastic shopping bags. Keiran didn’t understand.

“Not much. No one really remembers anything and they all blacked out so you won’t be able to see anything in their heads either. All we really have to go on is a few letters of a name the receptionist wrote down before she was drugged, or… Flowered, I guess we could say. And all of them heard whoever it was say something about a boss being pleased with them?” Keiran elaborated.

“Well that’s predictably vague. At least now we have some kind of a lead to check out these Itchy Bloomers people.”

“Iter Luminis,” Keiran corrected helpfully.

“Whatever. We sneak in, gather intel, get out. If anyone has evidence of using this flower we at least have a clue who the thief is. Or isn’t. We’ll go from there.”

Keiran’s eyes lit up.

“Wait! Sneak in? Intel? Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Don’t get too excited, 007, this isn’t-“ Kaiken began, even though he knew he would not be permitted to finish.

“And where might we find these followers of ‘Iter Luminis?” Keiran asked of Lady DeNyal, completely ignoring his partner.

The mere mention of the name incited the fire in her eyes again and a twitching of every muscle in her hulking form.

“They’re crafty ones. Easy to spot, but hard to crack,” she began, shadowboxing some unseen victim, “They’re masters of hiding in plain sight. Sometimes they have a kiosk at the mall, sometimes a table in the park, or the Farmers Market. They lure people in with a free personality test and choose only the ones they think can be useful to them! It’s a cult and a sham and they sully the good name of us true worshippers of the old Gods!”

If Kaiken hadn’t already been inching backwards toward the exit with a finger hooked in his partner’s belt loop, Keiran would have needed no encouragement to slink away from the fierce blows to the air between them.

“I see! Thank you so very much, my dear Lady DeNyal. I think we have all we need to get started!” he announced, grabbing Kaiken’s hand with unfettered glee, “We’ll keep you posted on our progress. Thank you SO very much for your cooperation today!”

Lady DeNyal and the rest of her congregation hurled frantic thanks at the two magical mercenaries as they made their way out of the Temple of Aten. Or more rather as Keiran dragged Kaiken out like a cat on a leash. Somehow, he managed to wrest his flask out from somewhere on his person and took several generous swings to arm himself for the long bus ride back home that would be filled with nothing but Keiran’s excited prattling. Disguises, acting, infiltrating, and blending in had always been his forte, after all, and his very favorite part of conducting illicit magical operations under UMBRAL’s nose.

In fact, he had come up with no less than five separate characters by the time they were slipping into the back entrance to their loft, all of which sounded the same to his harangued partner. Kaiken had had quite enough of people and outside for one day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed with his laptop and do his own brand of illegal meddling – Research on the internet. And maybe a smutty comic or two on a private tab off to the side. He could leave the sweet-talking and the acting to Keiran. Kaiken yanked the take-out menu of the place he had decided dinner was to come from out of the kitchen drawer they kept stocked with various other take-out menus, tossed it at his partner, and bolted for the sweet respite of the shower and then his room at last.

Once clean, in his pajamas, and safely inside his bedroom, the door slammed shut, the series of locks clicked psychically into place behind him, and Kaiken flung his body onto the neatly made bed with a groan of relief. Only a few blissful seconds of silence ticked by, however, before a familiar voice shattered it with impunity.

“Soooo,” the same musical female voice sang, “How did it go…?”

“No Lena, not tonight, my bullshit meter is full,” Kaiken snapped, muffled by his comforter.

His face remained firmly rooted in down alternative as a figure, translucent and glowing a brilliant green-blue, stepped through the wall and craned over him with her hands on her hips.

“Come now, at least tell me if you got any good leads! You really, really need to get paid. Your partner is so sad when he goes hungry, like a little stray puppy,” Lena pouted, making a pitiful high-pitched whine.

“Tell me about it.”

“Hey, at least he tolerates you. Can’t say the same for anyone else you’ve tried to partner up with these days.”

“We haven’t been partners that long, give him time.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lena continued, narrowing her eyes impishly, “He got you to go out on that job today, after all…”

“No. I went out on a job we’re being paid for. He played with a flower. And made up stories about the other one that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you really, really sure about that? He’s good, you know. There’s a reason UMBRAL hasn’t rounded him up and thrown him in their deepest darkest hole.”

“He has the brain of a five year old. He hasn’t been caught because they’re looking for an adult. Not a big dumb child with unlimited magic potential.”

“Or because he’s just that slick.”

“Luck.”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“Lovely poem. Not arguing there.”

“Look, as someone who is privy to the infinite secrets of the universe, I’m telling you. You’ve got a good egg here. Don’t break this one,” Lena said, watching as Kaiken rolled over and slathered himself on the laptop he had unearthed from somewhere in the folds of his comforter.

“And as someone who’s dealt with ghost bullshit all my life…” Kaiken began, trailing off to key in his password.

He paused a moment, glancing up at the awaiting spirit hovering at his bedside.

“Naw, that’s it. I’ve dealt with ghost bullshit all my life.”

Lena doubled over with laughter.

“HAH! Sorry, but you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can see us. The only one anyone’s ever met who can see us. You have an exceedingly rare gift, my dude.”

“I am not ‘your dude’,” Kaiken huffed, echoed by sudden furious keystrokes.

“Okay you can say that all you like, but I still like you.”

“Cool, tell me where the sun ball is so I can get paid and quit dealing with all this, then.”

“Wouldn’t tell you even if I knew!”

“And bullshit meter officially into overages. You owe me.”

Lena drifted back a little, her ghostly grin turning coy.

“Oh I owe you, alright. You just don’t know how, and you don’t know when you’ll need to cash it in, but when the time comes. You’ll know.”

Kaiken sighed, rubbing his temples.

“You can keep saying that, but it doesn’t make any more sense the more you do.”

“We made a pact a long time ago, remember? That you acknowledged I don’t know everything, and even of what I do know I can’t tell you everything, but that I’d let you know if a job was worth it? This one is, trust me.”

“Not sure why I do but… I do. Thanks.”

“No prob. The-Powers-That-Be have been very generous. Even they’re not quite sure what to make of you.”

“Feel free to tell them to turn the ghost frequency off in my brain any time. I could use a little peace and quiet.”

A knock at the door pierced their clandestine conversation.

“Hey Kaiken! Guess what, guess what!” Keiran’s excited voice, muffled by wood, sounded, “I was digging around for some spare change for dinner and I found a five dollar bill in the couch! I’m gonna order you that salmon sashimi you like, too!”

Kaiken’s cheeks puffed out a little.

“And extra rice,” he added.

“You got it! Order coming right up!”

Keiran’s footfalls danced away in musical percussion to the kitchen to place the order.

“Thought you were a vegetarian…” Lena snorted.

“Fish isn’t meat.”

“Fish is absolutely meat but if you insist. I’ll leave you be then.”

“Finally.”

“When the food gets here, go eat with him. He’s sweet. I hate to see him alone in front of those trash movies he watches with a takeout box. It’s sad. Like those sad dog commercials. You know… With their little paws up, all shivery and cold and teary eyed and-”

“Ugh. What makes you think I want to see that? I can only take so much sunshine and trash movies and sad puppy dog eyes. I just want to eat and sleep.”

“Okay, okay, suit yourself! See you around… My Little Leaf!”

“I TOLD you don’t call me-!” Kaiken seethed, but it was only to empty air.

Lena had vanished into the ether as she always did without a trace.

Kaiken sat for a moment on the bed, Keiran’s distant voice cheerfully ordering their dinner in the background, the very adult comic on his screen suddenly not as appealing as it had been moments ago. He ground his teeth and snapped the lid of his laptop shut. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and slid the computer back into its hiding place under his pillow with a heavy sigh of resignation. He supposed he was going to have to listen to whatever hideous film atrocity Keiran was going to pick through their walls anyway, so he might as well go make snarky comments about it. He padded out into the living room, already barking orders about boba tea from the place down the street, and took his usual place on the couch while Keiran set up for dinner.


End file.
